


Kids in America

by ValBirch



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Found Family Feels, Friendship, Monster Hunters, Multi, Robin is a kickass lesbian genius, Steve Harrington is a chaotic sweetheart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 01:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19819717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValBirch/pseuds/ValBirch
Summary: A series of connected one-shots in which Steve and Robin get new jobs, become roommates, unofficially adopt some kids, and kick some monster ass.





	Kids in America

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! It's been a while since I posted here but I thought I'd jump back in to it. I've been posting mostly on Tumblr (you can find me there as maxmayfield) but it's awesome that you're here and reading this. Hope you like it. If there's a particular one-shot you'd like to see, just let me know!

Two days after the Starcourt Mall incident, Steve finds himself on an unfamiliar porch on the far side of Hawkins his car parked on an otherwise empty and unfamiliar driveway. Balancing a cup of ice cream in either hand—from Kelly’s Cones on Main Street since Scoops Ahoy was, well, crushed—Steve uses his still-bruised knuckles to ring the doorbell. 

He realizes, just as his hand leaves the buzzer, that his face hasn’t fully healed and mentally scolds himself, hoping that it’s Robin who opens the door and not one of her parents or a younger sibling. He probably should have thought about that first, or about the fact that it’s July and his ice cream surprise is rapidly melting under the noon sun that beats down on top of his head. But he’s Steve Harrington, right? Act first and think later? Isn’t that how he ended up fighting monsters and being friends with probably-insane children? And maybe that’s why he’s here—hoping to reconnect with the first person his own age he’s felt real and genuine friendship for since he was, like, ten, hoping that she doesn’t think he’s stupid or reckless or probably-insane himself. 

When the blue-painted door does finally open, Steve is relieved to see a familiar face on the other side. Robin, bags under her eyes like he’s never seen before, opens the door about halfway and surveys him with cool confusion. “Steve?” 

“You haven’t returned my calls,” Steve launches straight into the reasoning behind his unannounced visit, “And I wanted to check that you were okay and not, you know, freaking out over that monster and kids with superpowers and…”

“Steve.” Hands crossed over her chest, Robin cuts him off. He pauses only momentarily, surveying the uncertainty on her face before continuing his explanation—realizing that this too is something he probably should have planned. 

“Is it because I awkwardly confessed my crush on you? Because I do like you but not like that. I was, like,  _ super _ high and we’re friends...right? I mean, we were kind of kidnapped together and—” 

Robin’s hand comes up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Can you stop talking for a second, dingus?”

Steve notices, with a wave of relief, that the hint of a familiar smirk has found its way to her lips. Robin quickly glances behind her, sees her mother bustling around in the kitchen and slips out of the front door, closing it gently behind her. Bare-footed, she presses past Steve to take a seat on the porch steps, elbows resting on the ripped knees of her jeans. 

“Is one of those for me?” she asks as Steve settles down beside her, kicking his legs out in front of him so that his heels rest on the bottom step. He laughs and hands her the cup of butterscotch, tiny yellow spoon sticking out from the quickly melting top scoop. 

“For old time’s sake,” he says, digging in to his own Rocky Road scoop. For a moment, they sit in silence, eating ice cream. 

Finally, Robin speaks, “I’m sorry I haven’t called. It’s just been a lot to take in, you know?”

“I get it,” Steve nods, “I mean, the first monster we fought was a lot smaller than that one but it was still—”

Robin shakes her head, lips pursed into a small grimace. “It’s not the monster,” she shrugs, “Or the small child who can throw cars with her mind.”

Steve bites down on his plastic spoon, watching her, “Then?” 

Robin continues, her voice barely above a whisper. “Steve, that thing I said…about Tammy Thompson…”

He pauses, looks away from her face for a moment, staring at the peeling green paint of the porch steps before finding her eyes again. 

“I just didn’t mean to tell you. I was also,” she pauses, shifting her voice into a hammed-up impression of his own, “— _ like, super high _ .”

Steve chuckles before a beat of silence falls between them. He can hear the vacuum cleaner start up inside the house. 

“You didn’t want me to know?” It’s a question, but his tone is matter-of-fact. He wonders, vaguely, if this is better or worse than Robin thinking he’s an idiot. 

Robin shrugs again, keeping her eyes on his, carefully watching for his reaction. She feels like she did back in the bathroom stall—nervous anticipation, albeit with less queasiness. Absently, she stirs her nearly-liquid ice cream in its cup. “I didn’t really want anyone to know?”

Steve nods, taking another bite of his ice cream to give her a chance to continue. When she doesn’t, he reaches out and rests a hand over hers. “Robin, you know it’s cool right? So you like girls? Big deal. Girls are hot.”

At this, Robin can’t help but to roll her eyes, memories of all his failed pickup attempts at Scoops Ahoy flashing through her mind. She realizes, with a pang of sadness, that she’s going to miss those days. 

“Besides,” Steve continues in a low and light voice, “The stuff I like about you has nothing to do with who you find hot. I mean, like I said, your taste is questionable at best but whatever.”

Here, Robin wants to make a snide remark about Nancy Wheeler, but she bites her tongue. It doesn’t feel right, not in that moment. Instead, she pulls her hand free from his and takes the opportunity to smack his shoulder. 

“Just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“You got it,” Steve assures her. Faltering and unsure, they lean toward one another to share a hug, interrupted when Robin’s ice cream cup begins to spill butterscotch onto Steve’s back. 

“Sorry,” she laughs, pulling back and setting the cup aside, “But at least I didn’t get any in your hair.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve laughs, “You’re just lucky I finished mine, okay?” 

They fall into silence once more—a comfortable one that Steve never felt with his other friends, worried that silence meant they wouldn’t have anything to say to him ever again. 

“So,” Robin mutters, running a hand through her hair, “I guess we’re gonna have to find new jobs.” 


End file.
